Can one end anything? A chapter, a paragraph, a sentence even? Doesn’t everything one has ever done go on living in spite of subsequent events?
Men are beginning to realize that they are not individuals but persons in society, that man alone is weak and adrift, that he must seek strength in common action.
Women think with their whole bodies and they see things as a whole more than men do.
As for ourselves, yes, we must be meek, bear injustice, malice, rash judgment. We must turn the other cheek, give up our cloak, go a second mile.
What is it one yearns for? It is to be able to do a thing for the first time again. And that is impossible.
Only the artists interest me whose hearts beat in unison with the poignant misery of the world. If you have not felt that, you have not lived. Pity is essential.
Of all possible sexual perversions, religion is the only one to have ever been scientifically systematized.
Love is made by two people, in different kinds of solitude. It can be in a crowd, but in an oblivious crowd.
We have all known the long loneliness, and we have found that the answer is community.
There is something very independent about French balloons – you feel you couldn’t make a pet of one.